Born For Adversity
by Rosawyn
Summary: "I wish we had been born brothers, you and I; maybe then you could have saved me, truly saved me, but by the time you found me I was broken—broken far beyond repair"
1. Cursed From the Earth

**Born For Adversity**

_Doubt is the brother of shame._  
>-Erik Erikson<p>

_Doubt is a pain too lonely to know that faith is his twin brother._  
>-Khalil Gibran<p>

(Earth-CSK14051981)*

Erik wondered, not for the first time, why he had come here. Why put himself through this? Why put Charles through this? Charles who sat before him in that wheelchair, his hands folded placidly in his lap, his face tilted up to meet Erik's gaze, his eyes filled with such kindness and vulnerability. Erik sighed, momentarily moving to run his fingers though his hair before remembering he wore the helmet that kept his and Charles' minds safely separate.

"Please," Charles said, his gentle voice filled with sincerity, "come home, brother." The invitation almost broke his resolve. How could Charles welcome him back after everything that had happened, after everything he had done to hurt Charles?

"Brother," Erik began, his voice tinged with regret. "I-I wish we had been born brothers, you and I; maybe then you could have saved me, truly saved me"—he saw the hurt, the argument stirring in Charles eyes but continued—"but by the time you found me I was broken—broken far beyond repair. You must know by now I can't be fixed. For your sake, I wish it were possible, but it's not, and I'm…so sorry." He felt tears welling in his eyes as he looked at his friend, but willed them away, intent on saying all he felt he needed to say. "You see these things in me—hope, love, friendship—but these things have been buried so long, they are _dead_. I can't allow myself to care for anyone; I loved my mother more than anything in the world, and that love got her killed!" He was speaking faster now, emotion roughening his voice. "And you!" He pointed a finger at Charles, as if in accusation. "You were the first good thing that came into my life since my mother was taken from me—and _look what I did to you!"_ He realized he was shouting, nearly screaming, and took a breath to calm himself, continuing once he could speak at a more reasonable volume. "I hurt you, nearly killed you in my careless rage. If-if I could do _anything_ to fix that," his voice broke and he swallowed a sob, desperately blinking back tears, "anything to make things right, to make it up to you…" His hands shook. He pulled the helmet from his head and slowly lowered himself to one knee in front of the man whose life he'd destroyed. He looked into Charles' eyes, pleading with every fibre of his being for—for what? Forgiveness? Understanding? Who was he to ask for such things? His guilt felt like a cold knife stabbing through his chest. Charles said nothing, but looked at him with such infinite sorrow on his face he realized Charles must be feeling everything he felt, and that was wrong—Charles had done nothing to deserve any of this. Decisively slamming the helmet back on his head, he stood to his feet again. When he spoke, his voice was cold and flat, sounding dead to his ears. "But I just left you there, injured and bleeding—_this is the kind of man I am, Charles!_" He was screaming again, he realized, but he couldn't find the will to calm himself again. "Don't you see? Can't you see now that I can't be saved? I don't deserve to be saved! I don't deserve your forgiveness! I don't deserve your friendship!"

He turned quickly on his heel, unwilling to see the effect his words had on Charles, unwilling to accept the pain he would inevitably see in his friend's face, knowing that once again he was the cause of so much suffering for a man who deserved only the kindness, patience, and acceptance he gave so willingly to everyone.

He stormed out of the room intent on leaving the mansion as quickly as possible and never returning, but he found his way blocked by the female CIA agent, Moira. She stood in the middle of the corridor, hands on hips. The only way to get past her would be to push her aside, which he did seriously consider doing, but he knew Charles considered this woman a friend and decided against it, at least for now. "What do _you_ want?" he snapped.

Moira's eyes were saddened as she considered the man she was facing. "He misses you, you know." Erik made an exasperated noise and glared at her, but she seemed completely unintimidated, her gaze hardening as she met his eyes. "When you left him on that beach, you left him with me, but I can't stay here forever; I have a job that I need to get back to." She took a steadying breath. "And as much as it pains me to say it, I'm not the one he really wants here with him." She swallowed and raised her chin slightly. "I'm afraid I'm a poor substitute for you; I'm terrible at chess."

Erik almost laughed at that, visibly relaxing and shaking his head. "He needs someone to play chess with?"

She nodded, a barely suppressed smile playing at her lips.

Erik looked at her appraisingly. "You really care about him."

She nodded again, a somewhat wistful smile on her face. "I've never met anyone like him before. He-he is probably the most fascinating man I've ever met. And he…inspires trust." She gave a small rueful laugh. "I'd almost think he'd used his power to…but I know he wouldn't do that."

"No, he wouldn't." Erik paused. "He really is…"

"Yes, he is." She looked Erik in the eyes. "Please. For him, give yourself another chance."

"I c-" He ran a hand over his face and looked at the floor between their feet. "I'll—I'd hurt him again."

"Yes," she said gently, "you probably will. But you're _already_ hurting him."

"He asks the impossible!" Erik shouted feeling his body tremble with rage. Some part of his mind registered surprise that she didn't even flinch.

"No. He only asks that you try again."

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><p>*<strong>See my profile for an explanation of numbered universes.<strong>

**A/N: I do plan to continue this story. I can't promise frequent updates, but I can truthfully say I have more that I'm writing and more in my head that I plan to write down. So if what you've seen here as piqued your interest, please add an alert for yourself. ****:)**


	2. Glad in His Heart

**A/N: I must admit I was a little overwhelmed with all the alerts this has gotten. I guess that means people want to read more. :) So here is more.**

* * *

><p><em>Either men will learn to live like brothers, or they will die like beasts.<em>  
><strong>-<strong>Max Lerner

Erik saw Charles face light up in a joyful smile as he walked back into the room he had so recently fled. No doubt he had overheard parts of the conversation in the hallway with his natural ears—and some of Moira's thoughts with his mind, even if he hadn't been actively trying to listen in. Looking at the powerful telepath in the wheelchair, Erik felt somehow defeated; he had fought so hard to destroy what was left of their friendship, and here he was now, actually willing to try things Charles' way against his own better judgement. His hands twitched nervously and he drew a shaky breath as he reached up and pulled the helmet from his head. He willed a desperate and broken apology at Charles, never breaking eye contact, as he slowly placed the helmet on the ornate wooden desk that sat against the wall.

"Charles, I-" he began, "if I— Will the others be welcome here, all of them?" he asked, already ninety-nine percent sure of the answer.

"Yes, of course."

"You know Emma is with me now?"

"I do."

Erik shook his head. "You are far too trusting, Charles."

Charles smiled. "Perhaps."

"Look, it's your house and I'm agreeing to try things your way. For now. But please—be careful—with Emma especially; she doesn't share your morals and I'm not sure she has any of her own. Azazel and Riptide, even Angel—they never followed Shaw out of love for the man—it's more about what's the most convenient option being presented. Azazel especially. Anyway, I can't promise they all will come or that those who do will stay." He sighed. "Charles I—I can't even promise that _I_ will stay." He looked at his friend, trying to gauge his reaction.

Charles elbows rested on the arms of his wheelchair, his fingers laced loosely under his chin. His expressive blue eyes were shining. And he looked so…happy. "Erik my friend, I don't need any promises. I am just so very happy that you are here _now_."

Erik felt himself smiling and realized he was happy too.

* * *

><p>It came as something of a surprise to Erik when all of his assembled mutants accepted Charles' invitation. Angel actually cried when Erik delivered the message that Charles was welcoming them all—some back, some for the first time. Azazel and Riptide shrugged in near-unison; it really was basically all the same to them. And Raven had been yearning for some way to see her adopted brother since she had heard of the severity of his injury. Emma simply nodded with a strange half-smile that left Erik feeling uneasy. Erik really would need to keep an eye on her, for everyone's sake.<p>

"When we get there, Charles will no doubt have some ground rules, but let me make my own rules very plain right now." Erik surveyed the group assembled and ready to teleport once Erik gave the word. "We are being offered an opportunity here to test and strengthen our abilities with other mutants, and I expect each and every one of you to appreciate and respect that. Not one of you is to under any circumstances intentionally harm Charles or any of his associates; we will be guests in his house, and I expect us to behave with respect and courtesy accordingly. And I expect each of you to follow Charles' own rules to the best of your ability—while staying at his house, we are doing things his way. If you want to leave, that's fine; you are certainly free to choose your own path at any point. But if any of you behaves in a way that I see as disrespectful of the hospitality you are being shown, you can expect me to _personally_ remove you from the grounds and you will _not_ be welcome back for so long as I am there."

Azazel and Riptide nodded, their faces seeming to say "That's fair." Angel nodded with a gulp, blinking back tears again, and shot Emma a glare. Raven folded her arms over her chest and also favoured Emma with a warning glare.

And so it was that the six mutants materialized hand-in-hand in the early morning sunlight on the grass just outside Xavier mansion. Erik and Raven shared a smile. It felt like coming home.

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><p><strong>AN: I promise more exciting things will happen in the next chapter. Well, things I find more exciting anyway.**


	3. For the Memory of Them Is Forgotten

_There is a destiny which makes us brothers; none goes his way alone. All that we send into the lives of others comes back into our own_  
>-Edwin Markham<p>

"Charles," Moira began, "I'd stay here as long as you need me—you know that, right?" She was sitting on the desk in Charles' study, her legs crossed.

"I do." Charles' smile was gentle and genuine. "But you need to return to the CIA; you have other responsibilities." He knew this was why she had brought it up; her responsibilities to the CIA had been nagging at her mind for some days now.

"You don't need me anymore—not since Erik has returned." It was not a question.

He could hear the repeating litany of thoughts in the forefront in her mind; it would have been a struggle to keep them out: _If you only you would ask me to stay, Charles. I would. I would stay as long as you asked._ He didn't ask.

She laughed a little, trying to fight down the tears that threatened. "I suppose that while auburn hair is quite a 'groovy' mutation, it's not really enough…" She reached out and took one of his hands between both of hers, looking earnestly into his eyes. "If you ever need me for anything, Charles, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you," he replied with an honest smile as he laid his other hand on top of their clasped hands. "I'll remember."

But Moira wouldn't remember. Charles saw to that.

As Moira left, Erik approached and took hold of the wheelchair, noting that Charles watched her go with a thoughtful sadness. "She'll go home and resume her previous life," Charles said. "She'll have no memory of me or of this place. I don't suppose she'd understand why I did that."

"She might. She understood far more than I would have thought." Erik paused. "What you did to her—it was a kindness." _Sometimes…I wish you would show me the same kindness._

_Oh no, Erik! No, you do not. That would not be a kindness to anyone, my friend._

The sun was shining. A gentle breeze stirred Charles' hair. The natural world seemed to mock Erik's dark thoughts. With a sigh, Erik put his hand on his friend's shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. It was entirely futile, he supposed, to imagine that Charles would ever give up on him, no matter how hopeless Erik clearly was. Charles reached up and took Erik's hand and pressed his lips to the back of it in a gentle kiss. _A game of chess, my friend?_

"Of course," Erik replied aloud. _Always_. One thing Erik was sure of: no matter what the future might hold for either of them, he would never tire of playing chess with Charles.

* * *

><p>Charles and Emma had spent several sessions practicing their mental barriers against each other—something Emma agreed could benefit them both. The training soon came to a standstill, however, because neither seemed capable of getting past the other's mental barriers, and Charles was adamant they shouldn't try to use excessive force that might injure the other—Charles pretended not to notice that Emma's grudging agreement to this guideline came after a particularly stern glare from Erik.<p>

This is where Alex came into the telepathic training sessions. "You're sure you want to do this, Alex?" Charles asked the younger mutant. Charles, Emma, and Alex all sat around a small table in a quiet room of the mansion.

Alex grinned. "Hey, I wouldn't have volunteered if I didn't want to." He looked between the two older mutants. "So, who's doing what first?"

"I'll try to shield you, and Charles will try to read your mind," Emma answered.

"Well, go ahead," Alex said with a shrug and a lopsided grin. Seeing Emma's nod, he drew a card from the deck in front of himself and looked at it, then placed it face down and looked at Charles expectantly.

Charles placed his fingers to the side of his head and drew his eyebrows together in concentration. "The…it's a heart, but I can't see which one."

Alex looked impressed as he turned over the Jack of hearts to show them both.

Emma made a small sound of annoyance and rolled her eyes.

"It's alright, Emma," Charles said. "This was just your first try."

She glared at him. "Your turn," she said coldly.

Charles nodded, and Alex drew a second card.

"It's…a…six." Emma said, glaring at the face-down card as though by concentrating she could see though it.

The mischievous glint in Alex's eyes infuriated her as he turned the card to reveal the nine of clubs.

"Actually," Charles began quickly, "you probably saw—"

"It upside down," she cut in, narrowing her eyes at him across the table. "And stop trying to encourage me—this isn't about making each other feel good; this is about both of us becoming better telepaths. You might require praise and ego-stroking, but I do not."

Alex's shoulders were shaking with laughter and he covered his mouth to keep from making any sound. Sure, he was in a room with two telepaths, but it was unlikely either was paying any attention to him at the moment, and while Charles would most likely not care at all if Alex laughed, the incredibly attractive Emma didn't seem the type to have much of a sense of humour, especially if someone seemed to be laughing at her—which is what he was doing. As pretty as she was, he still felt more loyalty for Charles and secretly hoped the professor would continue to best Emma at this game. Besides, Erik had pulled Sean, Hank, and himself aside the first day they arrived to warn them all to keep their eyes open and their guard up around Emma, and it was clear that neither Raven nor Angel liked her. At all.

"I think it was your turn, Professor," Alex said with feigned innocence, pretending he hadn't noticed the figurative daggers Emma had been shooting across the table at Charles.

* * *

><p>"Charles, I have something to ask of you." They were sitting over the familiar chess table in Charles' study, enjoying an evening of chess. Charles was mildly aware of the other mutants throughout the mansion—Hank was reading, Raven, Angel, Azazel, and Riptide were watching some television program that seemed to interest Raven and Angel much more than it did the other two, Alex and Sean were playing basketball with Emma watching them. It seemed Alex was winning.<p>

"What is that, my friend?"

Erik sighed and looked down, seeming unsure. Charles was about to offer encouragement when Erik spoke. "I want you to look into my mind…like you did before, and see if you can find another memory—another good memory. I don't feel I have enough of those…"

Charles smiled warmly, reaching across squeeze his friend's hand. "Of course I'll do it, Erik." Charles felt hope swelling within him; it was a good sign when Erik took off the helmet, but _this_—being invited to look once again into the deep and buried parts of Erik's mind—was an even greater sign of renewed trust. It didn't occur to Charles to consider the irony that _he_ was hoping to regain _Erik's_ trust after Erik had been the one to betray his. "Last time I looked for the brightest corner of your mind; is there a particular sort of memory you would like me to look for this time?"

Erik continued to stare unseeing at the nearest edge of the chessboard. "I-I want to remember what it felt like…to feel safe." His voice was rough and terribly quiet. The words felt like a cold knife slicing through Charles' heart—no one should ever forget what 'safe' felt like; no one deserved to go through any of the terrible things Erik had gone through.

Erik sat on the couch while Charles positioned his wheelchair facing him, their chess game on hold for the moment. Erik managed to force his eyes onto Charles' face and see the kind, encouraging smile there as Charles reached out into Erik's mind.

_Little Erik laid in the warm circle of his mother's arms, his head pillowed on her chest and his little arms wrapped as far around her as they could go. She smelled like soap, cream, and buckwheat kasha. They were rocking together in a wooden rocker by the fire, and Mamma was singing softly as her heart beat a steady rhythm beneath his head. The soft cotton of her dress was comforting against his cheek as his eyes drifted closed._

Erik opened his eyes, blinking. He felt the wetness of tears on his face. He was lying on his side on the couch—he must have fallen to the side. "Charles," he whispered, "thank-you."

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><p><strong>AN: For those who might be wondering, 'kasha' is a type of cereal usually made from buckwheat that is popular in **traditional **Polish and Jewish cuisine; since Erik and his mother were Polish Jews, I figured it would most likely be a staple in their diet. **I did research! **:D  
><strong>

**Thank you to everyone who's reviewed, altered, and favourited this. It puts a smile on my face to know people are enjoying what I write.**


	4. Now, in Part

_But you must believe in something, _  
><em> Sometimes that something's real<em>  
>-The Crüxshadows, "Ave Maria"<p>

"Look," Alex said, sounding exasperated, "I never said I was afraid! I just said I think the mansion might be haunted. Believing in the possibility of ghosts does not mean I'm _afraid_ of them." He glared angrily at Sean and Beast, but mostly at Sean. The dirty bugger just had to go and twist what he'd told him, try to make him look like a wimp to Beast.

Sean tried to look innocent under his friend's glare while Beast somehow managed to pull his new blue and furry features into his old "scientist" expression. "But…ghosts? You can't really believe such fanciful beings exist in reality." Oh yeah, Hank McCoy was in full-on "science" mode, but Alex wasn't about to be intimidated.

"We live with two people who can read other people's minds, a bug-girl, and a guy who _teleports_. Heck, you're _blue_ and _furry_. And you're going to pull the 'fantasy isn't real' card?" He gave Beast an incredulous glare.

The irony, however, seemed lost on the egghead. "Our mutations are scientifically observable, quantifiable; they can be explained logically through science. Ghosts, on the other hand, are a superstitious belief based on…"

"Wait." Sean's face had been pensive. "Wait, what if it's not a ghost?"

Alex and Beast turned to look at the redhead. "What do you mean?" Beast asked.

"Okay, so far only Alex has heard or 'observed' anything, but that doesn't mean it's his imagination." He turned to Alex. "You say this happens late at night when no one else is around. Maybe if someone else was around, they'd hear it too. What I'm trying to say is, what if this isn't a ghost, but something that does have a logical, scientific explanation." He turned to Beast. "Twenty years ago, no scientist would have believed that teleportation was possible, or that it would ever be possible, yet Azazel proved that wrong—or, he would if any scientist other than yourself or Professor X even knew he existed."

"So…" Alex began, "you're saying this might be…a mutant?"

"Actually," Beast said, "a mutant such as Professor X or Emma Frost could easily alter your perceptions and create the illusion of ghosts. In-in which case, you could also easily be the only one to ever observe these phenomenon."

"But why would either of them do that?" Alex's brow furrowed in confusion.

"It does seem a bit…petty, even for Emma," Sean agreed.

"And the Professor has been rather focused on the new Cerebro project," Beast supplied. Beast had drafted plans for a new and improved Cerebro to be built on the Xavier grounds, and Charles and Erik had been entirely focused on the details for the last week. They often demanded Beast's input, since he had built the original Cerebro and drafted these new plans, but at other times—such as now—it was just the two of them shut up in Charles' study with the plans, going over costs and suppliers for materials and God-knows-what-else. Alex understood the need to avoid raising suspicion as to why a private school would need so many electrical and computer components, and such large quantities of metal, and he was glad the acquisition of such things wasn't up to him.

"Alright," Beast said, sitting down on a nearby chair, "let's try to look at this scientifically."

"So you mean no more mocking me?" Alex shot back.

"Less mocking, anyway." Beast grinned his lopsided grin which was somehow even more annoying on his more bestial face than it had been on his human one.

Alex sat across from him and glared at him. Sean sat too, quietly observing.

"When did you first observe this unexplained phenomenon?"

Alex rolled his eyes. "Three nights ago. I was lying in bed, trying to fall asleep, and I heard this…voice."

"What did this 'voice' say?"

"Nothing! Well, it was just sort of making a sound. Like… 'Aaaaaaaaa.' So I tried to find out who it was: turned on the light, looked outside my door, even out the window. As far as I could tell, there was no one around. No one I could _see_, anyway."

"Did the sound continue during your search?"

"Yes." Alex shifted in his chair. "In fact, it seemed…more…insistent. Like, it was…trying to get my attention, or something."

"Did the voice eventually stop?"

"I guess so. I mean, I couldn't find anyone, or anything that could be making the sound, so I just went back to bed and turned off my light. Either it stopped, or I just fell asleep, but I didn't hear it anymore when I woke up in the morning."

"And you have heard this voice again since then?"

"Yep, last two nights. It's never said anything other than, "Aaaaaaa," but it-well, it sounds…sad sometimes—and sometimes frustrated."

"This 'voice' can express emotions?"

"Yes. And when it's…sad, the room gets sort of cold. And my light dims if it's on. When it's getting frustrated, the light flickers, sometimes sparks, even if it _wasn't_ on. And last night, there was a wind—I mean, it blew my curtains all around, but the window was closed. Tight. I checked." He gave Beast a challenging glare. Honestly, who—after hearing, seeing, and feeling all of that—wouldn't have thought their room was haunted?

"Do you have any theories as to why the voice is feeling sad or frustrated?"

"Yeah; I think it's trying to communicate, to tell me something, but it can't—wouldn't you get sad and frustrated if all you could say was 'Aaaaaaa'?"

* * *

><p>Emma exuded impatience as she stalked down the hallway of Xavier Mansion towards Alex's room. Alex and Beast were hurrying to keep up, Sean just tagging along out of curiosity, but without any sense of urgency. "I am <em>not<em> a sprit medium," she snapped at no one in particular. They stopped outside the door of Alex's room. "So you want me to go inside and…scan for some sort of invisible mutant?" Alex and Beast were both included in her disdainful gaze.

Beast sighed. "I would have asked the Professor, but he's-"

Emma cut him off. "The activities he chooses to spend his time on are deemed more important than the ones I choose to spend my time on. Fine." Her voice was somehow icier than before and Beast winced at it, shuffling his blue and furry feet against the carpet. Riptide and Azazel had mentioned—when she was suitably occupied with the task of trying to read Alex mind in the telepath training sessions—that she hadn't been quite so angry when they had all been working for Shaw, and that she had been Shaw's girlfriend. Beast found it hard to imagine the blonde woman feeling any 'tender' emotions, but it did seem logical that Shaw's death wasn't something she was happy about. He would have considered warning Erik about her—since it was no secret that Erik had been the one to kill Shaw—but Erik had already warned Beast and the others about _her_, so he assumed Erik already had his guard up where she was concerned.

Emma made a dramatic show of entering the room, then sat on the corner of Alex's bed, and crossed her legs. Her posture clearly communicated how 'beneath' her their request was, and an impatience to simply get it over with. Beast inwardly rolled his eyes. It's not like she had anything terribly important to get back to; they had found her _filing her nails_ of all things. And yet she had the nerve to suggest her time was somehow as important as the Professor's.

She heaved a sigh, then her body went still, her brows furrowed slightly in concentration on her face. After a moment her face pulled into a grimace and she brought her hands up to the sides of her forehead as if she had a headache. She turned to glare at them once again. "Yes, there is someone here, but I have no idea what sort of person it is, and I have no desire to probe any further."

Alex and Beast made nearly identical sounds of disbelieving exasperation.

"It _hurts_," she explained, almost petulantly, and stood. "I will not put myself through that sort of pain to satisfy your curiosity. It's Charles' house; maybe he'd be more interested in his uninvited guest." With that, she brushed past them all on her way out of the room.

**A/N: ****Again, thanks so much to everyone who has alerted, favourited, and reviewed - I'm glad to know my story is being read and appreciated. :)**


	5. The Fire in His Hand

_But there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother._  
>-Proverbs 18:24<p>

"No, no it's no trouble at all," Charles was saying as he allowed Beast to wheel him along the hallway. Erik mused at how his presence made Charles' ascent of the stairs swift and painless for all involved—it was rather convenient that the wheelchair was made entirely out of metal. Beast had mumbled something about not getting around to installing the wheelchair lift he had presumably been designing since shortly after the Cuba incident. It seemed Charles was rather concerned about preserving the beauty of the woodwork; otherwise the lift would have been completed weeks ago. Erik shook his head in disbelieving wonder; sometimes Charles could be so terribly impractical, especially when it came to matters of his own safety and comfort. In Charles mind, it seemed, completing Cerebro so he could find more students was far more important than a simple way for him to ascend to the second floor of his own house. Erik stopped himself before his thoughts drifted onto the reasons Charles needed a wheelchair lift, most specifically whose fault it was that he had lost the use of his legs; he knew it upset Charles when his friend allowed himself to wallow in self-hatred, so he had been making a concerted effort to avoid such thoughts, especially when he was near Charles—which had been nearly every waking hour during the last week. To be perfectly honest, it was exhausting to spend so much time with the man in his ever-present and rather conspicuous wheelchair—and watch him be so cheerful and positive all the time, never allowing himself to show any anger or blame towards Erik or even any sadness for his own loss—and all the while keep his own thoughts in check for fear Charles might overhear some moment of self-hatred and fix him with that gaze of infinite pity and sadness—not sadness for any sane reason like the fact that he would never be able to stand on his own feet again, but sadness that his friend would choose to torture himself over something Charles had already forgiven. So Erik kept his thoughts in check.

Charles sat still in his wheelchair in Alex's room, his brow furrowed slightly and his eyes keen with curiosity and a touch of concern. Erik folded his arms and leaned against one wall. It wasn't likely Charles' concern was for himself, for the pain he probably would experience from reaching out to…whatever it was Emma had felt, but instead he was probably concerned for the "invisible mutant" who apparently couldn't manage basic speech, but could somehow affect the brightness of the room's lamp and conjure breezes from...somewhere.

And then Charles was pressing his fingers to his temple, his eyes narrowed in concentration and Erik felt his own body tense as he watched his friend closely. Charles sucked in a sharp breath and bit his lip. He began to tremble, and was obviously holding on by sheer force of will. Erik bolted to him, kneeling before him, but Charles' eyes were rolled back in his head, his breathing laboured and shallow. "Charles!" Erik seized the smaller man by the biceps and gave him a shake. "Charles! Stop! Charles!" _My God, Charles, at least Emma knew when to stop…_

Everyone heard it then, the unmistakably mournful cry filling the room, "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa…"

* * *

><p>Erik had taken charge of the situation, barking orders no one seemed to consider questioning. They had moved Charles to a nearby unoccupied room, and Alex and Sean had helped gently move him from his wheelchair to lie atop the bedspread of the unused bed. Beast had full out run to his lab for strong tranquilizers he at least hoped would put Charles into a deep enough sleep that his telepathic powers would "turn off" for the time being. Somehow, he had acquired Azazel's assistance, because the two popped into the room minutes later, and Beast rushed to Charles' side. He had a stethoscope hastily looped around his neck.<p>

Erik looked pointedly at Azazel. "Get Raven." Erik appreciated how quick the Russian mutant was to obey orders as he gave Erik one quick nod, then popped out of the room again. Moments later, he reappeared hand-in-hand with Raven just as Hank began speaking.

"His heart rate and breathing were both dangerously fast, but the tranquilizer seems to be working, and they've slowed to safe levels for now."

Raven sat gently on the bed next to her brother and took his hand in hers. "What happened?"

"He-uh, well, there was, I mean there still is I guess—" Hank began, seemingly unable to meet her eyes.

"There's an invisible mutant in my room," Alex cut in.

Raven's eyes flashed up to his face. "What?"

"The Professor was trying to communicate with it, because it apparently can't talk," Sean supplied.

"I don't think it meant to hurt him," Alex said quickly.

Raven blinked in confusion. Evidently, no one had explained any part of this "invisible mutant" story to her before.

Erik looked at Azazel again. "Emma," was all he said, but it was enough. A nod, a soft popping followed closely by another, and Emma appeared in the room looking angry. She impatiently shrugged off Azazel's grip from her upper arm, shooting him a glare that seemed to contain actual shards of ice before turning her attention to Erik. She didn't even say anything, just folded her arms and glared at him. She didn't seem to notice Charles' lying unconscious on the bed. Erik wasn't sure why she seemed so angry about being summoned; she was fully dressed, or at least as fully dressed as was normal for her, so it wasn't as though Azazel had popped into her shower or anything that might warrant this level of annoyed irritation.

"You felt this whatever-it-is in Alex's room, but you didn't say it could be dangerous, just that it 'hurt'." He knew his tone was accusatory, and somewhere in the back of his mind he was at least half aware that maybe his own level of anger was unwarranted, but he didn't care.

The look she gave him was smug. "Pain is usually an indicator of danger. It's why we don't keep our hand in the fire." And damn it all if she wasn't _right_; no doubt bloody Charles would keep his own hand in the fire until the very bones were charcoal if he thought it might help_ someone else_ in some way.

He advanced a few steps towards her. "But you yourself suggested that Charles try to contact this 'invisible mutant,' apparently _knowing full well_ that it was dangerous." His voice grew quieter. "Does that sound like showing respect to the hospitality he has shown you?"

She actually pouted at that, a girlish, flirtatious pout, and if it wasn't intended to make him angrier, it certainly had that effect regardless. "I thought maybe Charles, being such a kind and hospitable man, would want every opportunity to show that hospitality to whatever has taken up residence in Alex's room. How was I to know he'd hold on long enough to injure himself?"

Erik restrained himself from injuring _her_. "Get. Out."

"Out of the mansion, or just out of the room?"

He wasn't entirely sure what he had meant, but her careless tone decided it for him. Grabbing her by the upper arm roughly, he shot Azazel a questioning look, "Azazel?" With a nod, Azazel took hold of her other arm and teleported them to their old headquarters that they had vacated not so very long ago. He looked to Erik for confirmation, "This is good?"

Erik nodded, letting go of Emma. It was more than he would have chosen; any random street corner would suffice so far as he was concerned, but he supposed Azazel was likely thinking far more clearly than he was at present, and when he allowed reason to float to the surface of the sea of his rage, he knew he didn't really want her to be arrested again. "Azazel, take me back. Please." He felt entirely exhausted as he materialized in the rather crowded room back at Xavier Mansion once again, and he found himself sinking into an empty chair. He wanted nothing more than to allow himself to fall asleep, but… "Beast, how is he?"

"Uh, no change really. He's still unconscious, which is good. His heart rate and breathing are steady and within the normal range. It is my…opinion that he should simply rest and allow his body to recover." Beast stopped, looking down, "I-I know I'm not a real medical doctor, so maybe we should…" Bringing an outside non-mutant doctor would be awkward at best, especially with no telepath available to conveniently wipe his memories or even calm him down enough from freaking out from blue fur and red devil tails…not to mention trying to explain what had actually happened to Charles to someone who had no understanding of Charles' abilities, or this sort of mutation in general…

"No," Raven said softly. "I trust you, Beast. And Charles trusts you."

Beast looked up at her with a bashful smile. "Th-thanks. A-and, you're right. Of-of course. A 'real' doctor would be even more lost than I am." He said the last words softly, fiddling with his stethoscope.

* * *

><p>As Alex got ready for bed rather later than usual that night, the voice of the 'invisible mutant' wailed softly. Alex sighed and looked in the direction it seemed the voice was coming from. "Look, we're not mad at you, at least I'm not; I'm pretty sure you didn't mean to hurt him." He felt a little silly talking to the air, but both Emma and Professor X had confirmed there was someone there, and Sean, Beast, and Erik had all heard the voice earlier, so he knew he wasn't just going crazy. Unless everyone else was going crazy too. "And Beast—that's our resident doctor, scientist, and all-around brainiac if you don't know—well, Beast says he's gonna be ok, just needs some rest. So…" He paused again and looked around his room. "Do you think you could just sort of chill and let me get some sleep?"<p>

The wailing, which had been softer as he was talking stopped then, and it almost seemed like the air let out a sigh.

"Alright then," he said and went to bed.


	6. The Altar That Was Broken Down

_I feel the need to endanger myself every so often._  
>-Tim Daly<p>

_The first question which the priest and the Levite asked was: 'If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?' But...the good Samaritan reversed the question: 'If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?_'  
>-Martin Luther King Jr.<p>

When Charles awoke the next day, he felt rather disoriented to be sleeping in his clothes, on the top of the covers—though he did have a spare blanket draped over him—in a room that clearly wasn't his own. He pushed back with his elbows, lifting his head and shoulders off the pillow and very nearly vomited, the wave of nausea was so severe. "Uuuhhgn," he groaned as he carefully let his head lie back on the pillow.

"Charles!" Raven said, starting awake in the chair where she had been dozing. She leaned forward, placing a cool hand on his forehead.

"Am I-was I sick?" he asked tentatively.

Raven bit her lip. "You don't remember?"

"I—my head hurt. It still does." He paused. "Was there—there was someone…is there an invisible mutant in Alex's room?"

Raven nodded. "Well, I didn't hear it, but Beast and Erik and Sean and Alex all did. And Emma said it was a person. We're just guessing mutant because, you know, invisible and all."

Charles frowned at the way she was studiously not thinking about Emma. Then he frowned deeper at the realization he was reading her mind without intending to. "I need to-I need to talk to Hank."

Raven nodded. "He'll want to see how you're doing; we were all worried about you."

* * *

><p>Later that morning—after he had changed his clothes, eaten some plain toast, and moved to his own bedroom—Charles found himself reclining against several pillows in his own familiar bed. The nausea seemed to be, very thankfully, gone, but his head still ached as though there was a rather large hot water bottle being incessantly inflated inside his skull. Not that Charles could fathom why anyone would want to inflate a hot water bottle at all, but that's what it felt like. Erik, who stood stoically against the wall watching him, was worrying.<p>

"I'm sorry, Erik, but right now I can't seem to help reading the minds of people who are near me…if you could try to worry a little less—it seems to make the headache worse."

Erik sighed. "I'm sorry." He stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked at the toes of his shoes.

"Oh, just sit down, Erik! Please. If you think you need to keep an eye on me for fear something terrible happens the moment your back is turned, at least you could sit down. Your feet hurt." Charles looked like a petulant child. At least that's what Erik thought. But Erik wordlessly sat in the chair beside the bed. "Hank thinks the…changes in my abilities will be only temporary, brought on either by contact with the mind of the 'invisible mutant' or the tranquilizers, or a combination of the two."

Erik managed to worry less, or at least managed to worry _quieter_, and Charles dozed for a bit, waking again in the early afternoon. He turned to see where Erik was still sitting in the chair by his bed. He blinked a few times. "Erik," he said, and paused. "I'm not reading your mind." He let out a quick, relieved laugh. "I mean, I could if I wanted to, but…I'm not doing it by accident anymore."

Erik smiled. "How's your head?"

"Mmmm…better, better." Truth be told, it still hurt, but in comparison to the pain he'd felt earlier, it was bliss.

Erik's smile grew wider. "Glad to see you feeling better." His posture was more relaxed as he shifted in the chair he had apparently been sitting in for at least two hours.

"Erik," Charles said with a sudden frown, "where is Emma?"

Erik narrowed his eyes, his body slightly tensing once more. "You read someone's mind."

"Actually, everyone whose mind I read seemed to be very carefully _not_ thinking of Emma, or at least not about where she might happen to be at present. Which of course, brings me to wonder just what it is that everyone is trying to hide from me." He levelled his gaze at Erik. "She is on longer here."

"Emma has elected to leave the Mansion. She had no more use for your hospitality."

"Oh, Erik." Charles sighed. "I don't need to read your mind to know that's not _really_ what happened." He waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, I've known for a while she didn't really want to be here. But Erik…" He sighed and looked at his friend, his expression tired and sad. "Look, Erik, I'm not a child. Or a china doll, or whatever fragile thing you seem to think I am. I am an adult—a rather capable one by most accountings—and I need you to treat me like one again."

_China doll_. As Erik looked at his friend propped on pillows in his bed, he couldn't help but notice how Charles' pale pink skin, rosy mouth, and slightly mussed brown hair did make him look very much like a china doll. He couldn't help the smirk that spread across his face. "You do rather look like a lovely china doll, Charles." But then a lump rose in his throat and he found himself blinking back tears. He looked down at the carpet. "I already broke you once," he whispered.

"Erik, please," Charles begged. "You have to let it go. I've forgiven you." _Why do you find that so hard to accept?_

"I-I don't deserve…" Erik was still staring at the same unremarkable patch of carpet.

"Erik, please look at me." He waited, and Erik did bring his gaze up to focus somewhere around Charles' collar bone. It was good enough, Charles decided. "Erik my friend, I need you to listen carefully to what I have to say: all people receive much that they don't deserve, yourself no doubt more so than most." The hitch in Erik's breathing told Charles that he understood what he meant by that without having to read his mind. "You were not allowed to choose whether or not to accept the bad you did not deserve—why do you fight so hard to reject the good?"

* * *

><p>Alex was out jogging alone on the grounds. While he found he really did enjoy the company of the other mutants, especially Sean and Beast, his time in prison had accustomed him to solitude. Of course, one of the many perks of <em>not<em> being in prison, was being able to go for a jog whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted, enjoying the fresh air and sunshine, and still utterly alone if he wanted.

But after he had been jogging for some time, as he stopped for a breather, he got that sort of unnerving feeling that he was being watched. A careful scan of the surrounding bushes and trees revealed no one, however, not even a bird or a squirrel that he could see—and did birds and squirrels even trigger that "I'm being watched" feeling? Alex didn't think they ever had before.

A few minutes later when he stopped again, still unable to shake the uneasy feeling, he was standing with his hands gripping his thighs above his knees, looking down, and he noticed he had two shadows. With only one sun in the sky overhead, that seemed odd. Not that he'd paid much attention in…whatever subject might have taught about shadows, but it just seemed wrong somehow for one person to have two shadows outside when the only source of light to cast a shadow was the sun.

He drew a few more deep breaths, wondering if he should just give up on his jog for today when a figure that most definitely hadn't been there a moment ago slumped to the ground beside him, body folded over its legs and head down so Alex couldn't see the face. Its skin was an odd sort of translucent green revealing a pattern of vibrant blue veins branching just under the skin, and all around the edges of the body was a strange, reddish glow. It somehow took longer to register that the figure was bald and naked. If Alex hadn't grown accustomed to sharing a house with a blue and scaly girl who could make herself look like _anything_ but usually chose to simply walk around all blue and scaly and clothing-optional, a blue and furry beast with claws, and a guy who looked like the _Devil_—tail and all—he might have been freaking out right now.

Maybe he was freaking out a little anyway. This guy—it seemed to be male; didn't look female, anyway—wasn't moving, didn't even seem to be breathing. "Hey man, you okay?" Alex crouched next to the figure, placing his hand on the other guy's shoulder—not bothering to stop and ask himself if he should risk direct physical contact with oddly still green guys who glowed red and appeared out of nowhere, in the middle of nowhere. But then again, he knew at least one mutant who appeared out of nowhere on a regular basis, so maybe that part wasn't so strange after all. The slumped figure felt warm under his touch, and very much alive. The hair on Alex's arm stood up, and he was reminded of the sensation of touching a balloon that had been rubbed on the carpet to make it stick to clothing—a game he remembered playing at a birthday party once when he was about seven or eight.

Alex didn't want to leave the other mutant out here unconscious and alone, but despite the other mutant's slumped position Alex gauged his height as rather tall—taller than Alex himself with long legs and arms—a fact that might make attempting to carry him even more awkward than the fact the other mutant wasn't wearing any clothing. Alex decided to try something; it was worth a shot anyway.

_Professor_, he thought as intently and directly as he could. _Professor X? I could really use some help out here…_ He just hoped that if this worked it wouldn't make the Professor's headache worse—but the Professor had been accidentally reading everyone's mind all morning, and though that was weird, it hadn't seemed to hurt him. In fact, he thought to himself as he waited, today might be the only day this could actually work, assuming the Professor's powers went back to normal as Beast had predicted.

_Alex?_ He heard the Professor's voice in his head and couldn't help grinning in relief.

"Yeah, Professor it's me." Now that he had contact with the Professor's mind, he knew the telepath would hear him if he just spoke out loud.

_Did you just try to contact me?_

"Yes, I did. And I'm glad I managed to get through. There's someone here—a mutant I imagine based on his appearance—and he's unconscious, might be sick or hurt."

_Understood. I'll send Azazel to your location. Thank you, Alex._

"Yeah, no problem, Professor."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I hope you enjoyed it, especially the conversation between Charles and Erik that ends with Charles saying, "You were not allowed to choose whether or not to accept the bad you did not deserve—why do you fight so hard to reject the good?" I am so insanely proud of that line. I wrote it in my head ages ago and it has taken me two and a half chapters to get the story to that point, and I only hope the story continues to be enjoyable from here on.**

**You might be interested in my stand-alone story "Made of Metal" which is not intended to be in the same continuity as this story, but is still probably something you'd enjoy if you're enjoying my Erik and Charles in this story.**


	7. As Thy Soul Liveth

_And with these our hells and our heavens  
>So few inches apart<br>We must be awfully small  
>And not as strong as we think we are<em>  
>-Rich Mullins, "We Are Not As Strong As We Think We Are"<p>

_And, behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest…for I will not leave thee...  
>-<em>Genesis 28:15

As Alex, Azazel, and the other mutant appeared in Hank McCoy's lab, Alex wondered briefly if Azazel minded being asked to "fetch" people so often; looking at the mutant's scarred devilish face, it certainly didn't seem to be the case—if Azazel felt anger or resentment over his role within the "X-Men," he certainly hid it well. While helping Azazel to lay the other mutant on an exam table, Alex got the first chance to actually see the strange mutant's face and he couldn't help staring. The man's eyes were closed, and the strangely luminous blue veins combined with the greenish tint to the translucent skin and the odd red glow that seemed to surround the entire body like an aura were distracting, but that face...somehow, _somehow_ it still looked like... "Darwin," Alex whispered.

"I agree the facial resemblance is remarkable, Alex," Beast was saying as he approached, adjusting his glasses with one large blue hand. "But we can't immediately assume, considering...I'll need to do several tests—" The egghead broke off speaking at that point, apparently forgetting that he had been speaking at all as he lost himself in his "Brainy Science Research Mode."

Alex shook his head, feeling disoriented. Darwin, if indeed that's who this strange mutant was, lay unconscious on the table, Azazel had excused himself to do whatever it was he did when he wasn't being asked to fetch, and Doctor Hank McCoy had evidently decided Alex was entirely beneath his notice for the time being. Alex took a few steps backward until his back touched the wall, then slid down to sit with his chin resting on his knees, wrapping his arms around in front of his shins. His run had been much shorter than he had planned, but he suddenly felt completely and totally exhausted.

* * *

><p>Charles smiled, looking up at Erik. "It seems we have a new guest joining us—a mutant Alex encountered while jogging on the grounds; he's unconscious at the moment, but Hank says his vitals seem strong, so hopefully we'll all get the chance to meet him soon." The idea of welcoming yet another mutant into his home seemed to fill Charles with so much happiness, it made Erik's teeth hurt.<p>

"That's...great, Charles." Erik forced a smile—it wasn't that he didn't welcome the idea of new mutants joining their 'family,' it was more that he didn't automatically assume the very best of everyone the way Charles did; for the time being, he considered this new, unknown mutant to be a potential danger, and even if and when this mutant awoke, there was no guarantee he would want to stay. Emma had not wanted to stay. He sighed and changed the subject—it seemed such a shame to risk ruining Charles' mood, but Charles had asked him to stop treating him like he was fragile. "I really think you should allow Hank to finish and install the wheelchair lift he's been working on."

Charles made a dismissive gesture with his hand, looking away with an uncaring expression. "Unnecessary. Such trivialities can be considered at some later date…"

"Trivialities? Unnecessary? Charles, we are talking about your ability to actually navigate your own _home_."

Charles turned a bright smile on Erik, his eyes flashing with a hint of something…dangerous. "I seemed able to navigate it quite easily the last time I had any inclination to."

Erik closed his eyes and clenched his jaw painfully. He took a deep breath. "Charles," he said warningly.

He looked at Charles whose wide blue eyes stared back at him, the picture of innocence. But an undertone of challenge flashed in his eyes, a hint of Charles' answering warning.

"Charles," he said again with a sigh. "I can't always—won't always—" He stopped, eyes widening at the sparks of emotion in Charles' eyes: anger, fear, hurt. Charles body was tense as a tripwire. "Charles," he said carefully, "if there is something you wish to say to me…"

But Charles shook his head sharply, blinking a few times and narrowing his eyes.

"Charles." Erik sighed. He wanted nothing less than to cause his friend pain or distress, but…this was getting ridiculous; the weeks of tiptoeing around on eggshells had left him feeling exhausted and worn. And besides, Charles had asked... So he tried once more. "I won't always be around when you have 'inclination' to—"

_DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE ME! _The words were a shout in his mind, followed by a whisper:_ Not again._ Charles looked quickly away, blinking rapidly. His knuckles were white as his hands gripped the metal armrests of his wheelchair.

Erik had felt his eyes widen at the telepathic shout. There had been so much rage, so much desperation, so much _pain_ entwined in those words. He had never expected to feel any of those emotions in anything approaching the level of severity from Charles. Somewhere in a strangely calm portion of his mind, Erik found himself musing that he had apparently been trying to apologise for the wrong thing—he blamed and punished himself for the bullet he had deflected into his friend's spine and struggled to understand Charles' lack of anger at him for his loss of mobility and independence. However, it seemed Charles was indeed angry—angry at him, even—just not about the injury. Erik felt his mouth open and close twice before he could conjure any coherent words. "Charles, I—" Maybe not so 'coherent' after all. He took a step towards the other man. "That wasn't—I-I didn't mean…"

Charles turned back to face him, a forced smile on his face. His eyes betrayed guilt and fear as he visibly struggled to bring his emotions back under control. "Erik my friend," Charles was saying in a deceptively light voice, "forgive me; I didn't mean—"

"No." Erik found himself somehow on his knees before the other man, his hands gently covering the smaller ones—an academic's hands, a privileged boy's hands, not used to violence or even hard work—that still gripped the wheelchair's armrests far too tightly. "No." He shook his head, feeling tears burning in his eyes. "Charles, there is nothing to forgive."

One of those same hands, the same hands that had struck and clawed at him and at his thrice-damned helmet in ineffectual desperation that day in Cuba, slipped from under his hand to lay against the side of Erik's face. Charles looked into Erik's eyes, his gaze intent yet somehow far-away. The soft pad of Charles' thumb stroked across Erik's cheekbone. Charles' voice was terribly quiet as he finally spoke, "Oh, but there is."

Erik felt frozen, held in place by the torrent of warring emotions—fear, guilt, sadness, rage, longing—some of which Charles might be unintentionally projecting but all of which he knew he owned in and of himself. Charles seemed to be looking through and past him now, his hand stilled on Erik's cheek.

"It was my fault," Charles whispered.

Erik blinked in confusion, shaking his head. He coaxed Charles' fingers loose from the metal armrest, using the slightest hint of his power to warm the metal and make it gently thrum until he had Charles's hand fully loose from it. For such scholar's hands, they had a surprisingly strong grip. "What was your fault, Charles?"

Charles eyes shot to meet his.

Erik rephrased—_corrected_—his question, "What do you _think_ was your fault, Charles?"

Charles' eyes had a far-way look. "You-you had that helmet on, and I couldn't—but that's no excuse! No excuse. I should have known—I'm supposed to be so _smart_, you know. They always said—everyone always told me how brilliant, how terribly _bright_ I was. But when it really mattered…" He swallowed, a pained grimace on his face. "I was supposed to save you. I-it was too much to hope—too much to expect I could stop you from killing Shaw; I see that now. And maybe…" He paused, shaking his head. "But, Erik!" His eyes filled with desperation. "All those people! I couldn't allow—I couldn't— But, when it really mattered; I couldn't help you, couldn't even… I said—I said the _one thing_, the _worst_ thing I could possibly have said."

Erik remembered. Charles, desperate, begging: "…only following orders." Erik hadn't seen it then, of course; hadn't considered how his actions would have affected Charles, had all those "innocent men" died by his hand. From what he knew of Charles' power, it was likely he would have felt each and every one die—how could he even have considered...?

"This," Charles said, gesturing to his useless legs and the metal wheelchair, "this isn't a reminder of anything terrible you did to me, Erik; it's a reminder of the day _I_ failed _you_. It's the consequences for my own stupidity."

Erik was stunned. His mind reeled, tumbling over itself in an attempt to process what he was hearing. In the confusion, pain, and rage of the moment, Erik had blamed Moira, the human with the gun, and at the time Charles had seemed to blame Erik, the mutant deflecting bullets in a careless rage with no thought of where the bullets may end up. How Charles' undeniably brilliant mind could manage to twist the events to somehow make Charles himself to blame… "Charles," Erik began once he found his voice. "Do you really believe…?"

Charles nodded once, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

Erik was shaking his head. "No, no, Charles. No. You can't blame— Charles, you _are_ brilliant, and you are the very _best_ person, better than any of us deserve. You can't blame yourself for _my_ failures. Please," placed his hand on the side of Charles' face, "don't do this to yourself."

Charles suddenly smiled, his glistening eyes crinkling at the corners. "I guess I really am being quite the hypocrite, aren't I? Always lecturing you about blaming yourself... But I really do need to apologize for losing control like that, and—I mean—I know you never promised to stay, and—and I have no right—"

"I—" Erik squeezed his eyes shut. "I can't—" He leaned his forehead against Charles'. _You have every right—every right to demand whatever you wish of me. _His breath hitched in his throat. _I still can't promise— _Erik swallowed. _...I'm here __**now**__, Charles; I'm here now._

Erik felt his friend's smile in his mind. _I know, Erik. And I __**am**__ glad._

"There is one thing I can promise." Erik's voice was soft. "Maybe two things. The first is that I will never leave without warning."

_And the second?_

_That I will always be your friend. No matter where I am._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So there you have another chapter (_finally!_); I suppose you could consider this my Christmas gift to all of you. :)**

**- One question I would like to ask, since I want my story to be as enjoyable as possible to as many of you as possible, and since someone reading this chapter before I published it (not a beta-reader, just someone irl who's a friend and a fan of the X-Men movies) accused it of being "too slashy" (apparently "kidding" but)...it got me wondering: keeping in mind that ****this story is rated T and that rating will not change****, how do you all feel about its level of "slashieness"? Feel free to reply in a review or by messaging me, and thanks soooo much for any and all feedback (on this or any aspect of my writing). -**

** And while in the spirit of the season, you should totally all go read my other XMFC fic "Wishing You" which is also set in Earth-CSK14051981. It's rather short and at least a few shades warmer and fuzzier than this. Consider it "Born for Adversity"'s "Holiday Special," if you will. It's completely not _required_, but highly recommended simply because it's good. :D**

**If you're a Supernatural fan, you probably will also enjoy my Supernatural Christmas fic "Snow and Angels" (which contains no spoilers past s4).**


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